The Fire in the Snow
by nelliesbones
Summary: Ever since Booth had been dead and then not, he could infuriate her more easily than before... Shared and overheard secrets during a snowstorm. Old canon, spoilerfree, warmhearted and M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

THE FIRE IN THE SNOW

I.

The crime scene was secluded and almost beautiful... as beautiful as a crime scene could ever be, Booth thought. He was standing on a hill, the vast green in front of him forming soft curves, interrupted by brownish spots of farmland. Behind him, where the coroner's car with the exhumed skeleton had just driven away, stood a weathered cottage, seemingly abandoned, and right behind it, the woodland began.

Less than two hours away from the city, the world seemed to stand still. The FBI agent inhaled deeply, the air clean and cold on his tongue, and upon exhaling, little white puffs could be seen. The temperature had fallen rapidly since they had arrived at the scene earlier this morning, and it smelled like snow.

Around him, the squints were packing their, well, squinty equipment back into their squinty equipment boxes. His partner of more than three years was there, Temperance Brennan, as well as Jack Hodgins, designated dirt and dust expert, and Cam Saroyan. Friend, former lover, flesh lady.

This scene hadn't really required her expertise, but a recent murder in DC had kept them busy the past weeks, had eventually led them to a suspect, a confession and this old and long-forgotten act of violence as well. The victim, the peace-less bones they had just discovered, had been a young mother; abducted, abused and murdered... just like the other woman who had died less than a month ago, their victim back in DC.

Cam had found an excuse to come with them today, and even Brennan, despite her outstanding capability to compartmentalize, had realized that this one was about closure – for the victims as much as for the team.

And now they were done. There would be burials, there would be a trial, there would be a verdict. They would move on. And it was about time to move away from the pain. The pain of the case... the pain of Zack gone, of a wedding that had not happened, of a death that hadn't been. So much had happened in the past year, and it was hard to live with the burden.

Turning around, Booth shook off the strange feeling of melancholy and rubbed his frozen hands, as he watched his team. He had spent a long time gaining their trust – and then regaining it after his fake death. By now, things felt almost normal again, but, every now and then, he could still sense some cracks in their relationship. Not with all of them, but, sadly, with the one that mattered the most. Letting go of a soft sigh, Booth regarded his partner carefully. She looked tired and even paler than usual.

Barely recovered from his "death", she had had to face the betrayal of her favorite apprentice, and Booth knew that it had hit her deeply, both of it. Only a few months ago, he could have comforted her with words and hugs, but, these days, their friendship was dangerously out of balance. She didn't exactly avoid him, but she kept him at distance, and everything felt fragile somehow.

A sudden ice-cold wind gust hit him, and Booth shivered, clearing his throat.

"Are we done? Because it seems as if a snowstorm is heading our way, and I don't wanna be stuck here when it happens."

"Almost."

"Great. Come on, let me help you, Bones."

He approached his partner, but she refused his offer to heave the big evidence box into the trunk of his black SUV.

"I can manage."

"Fine, okay," he hissed, suddenly annoyed. "Cam?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Whoa, look at that."

Hodgins pointed heavenwards. Where the ice-cold blue sky had been only minutes ago, big angry clouds were accumulating. Fast.

"Okay, let's go."

The four of them hurried to get into the car, and Booth cast a last glance at the scenery. In the fierce light of the approaching storm, it didn't look quite so peaceful anymore. Ignoring the seat belt, he turned the key in the ignition, awaiting the reassuring growl of the machine. Nothing. He did it again. The result remained the same.

"Shit," he uttered between pressed teeth, and Brennan next to him turned her head.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It doesn't start."

"Bad timing, man," came Hodgins' voice from the backseat, and Booth turned around.

"Really? Thanks, I hadn't noticed."

The moment Booth left the car with a silent curse, the first snowflakes hit their windshield. They were white and fluffy, and Cam who sat behind Brennan stated dryly,

"Freezing is among the most pleasant causes of death."

"I agree, it should be like falling asleep," Brennan concurred, and Hodgins unbuckled himself to get out of the car.

"One advice between friends: Don't tell Booth."

The snowfall increased, and what had started as featherlight white flakes turned into a mass of gray fairly quickly, blocking their view.

"I'm kind of glad that we're not on the road," Cam said after a while of silence.

"The alternative doesn't seem to be very pleasant, either," Brennan stated, and then the hood in front of them fell shut, revealing two shivering and snow-covered men. Booth opened the car door.

"Change of plan, we're staying."

-BONES-

Ten minutes later they had transferred everything that made sense into the old cottage, and one phone call – at least the net was still working – had confirmed their suspicion. Nobody would come to rescue them, not tonight, not during this storm. The daylight was vanishing quickly, and the falling darkness was accompanied by a howling wind. At least, they would be dry. Still, the cottage was old, smelling like mold and dust, and cold crept in through holes in the rough planks.

"We have Booth's gym bag, a spare suit, a sleeping bag, two blankets, flashlights, some water bottles, muesli bars and some leftover sandwiches from lunch," Hodgins counted.

"So, we will survive," Brennan stated, but Booth wiggled his head.

"First of all, Hodgins and I have to change. Then we have to check that old fireplace or it'll be a very cold night."

"Or we could form a circle to share our body heat. This is like Survivor, man."

"Really? You think this is cool Dr. Hodgins?"

"There will be no sharing of body heat whatsoever, forget it. Seeley, you can make a fire, can't you?"

"I'm a Ranger, _Camille_."

"Implying?"

"I can make a fire, Bones, okay? Why don't you two girls clean a little bit while Mr. Survivor and I check the other rooms for something wooden we can chop and burn?"

"This is a very chauvinistic approach. I refuse to be reduced to my gender, Booth, I can search wood as well," Brennan complained.

"Fire, Dr. B. This is a guy thing," Hodgins added, and Booth rolled his eyes.

"Just, for once, don't scrutinize everything, Bones. Can't you just clean a little bit and prepare dinner?"

"Dinner consists of muesli bars and frozen sandwiches," she snapped, and suddenly the air between Booth and Brennan seemed to freeze. The temperature which had been frosty to begin with dropped a few more degrees, and Cam hurried to interrupt.

"Technically, I am your boss. So, you, Dr. Hodgins, go with Booth; Dr. Brennan, you stay with me."

Everything on Brennan's face betrayed her disapproval, but she bit her lip stubbornly and didn't say anything anymore. Booth grabbed gym bag and suit, leaving the room with Hodgins in his wake. Cam found it wise to busy herself as well and went in search for... well, whatever there was to make the night more bearable.

Brennan was angry. At Booth, at the snow, at this cottage. She knew that most of her anger was directed quite irrationally, but she could neither redirect nor explain it. Ever since Booth had been dead and then not, he could infuriate her more easily than before. On the surface, everything was right again, their partnership intact, but between the moment where the surgeon had approached her in the ER, informing her about her partner's death, and the events in the graveyard, there was a blur of chaos and hurt. Traces of the darkness that had consumed her during those dreadful days were still there, lingering underneath her calm appearance, and, every once in a while, something inside of her exploded in blinding madness.

Taking a deep breath, she looked out of the window, but there was nothing to see. However, some in- and exhales later, she felt calmer, and with the calmness, Brennan realized how bloody cold it was. Her fingers were nearly numb and had turned to an unhealthy shade of pale. Rubbing her hands, she turned around, and, with a smirk on her face, Cam had manifested in the door frame.

"I've found this." A broom.

"And even better: this." A bottle full of golden something.

"Alcohol?"

"Hell yeah. Want some?"

"Getting intoxicated might not be wise under the circumstances. An inebriated body is quite defenseless against low temperatures."

"I have the utmost faith that the boys will manage to make a fire. Or we try the body heat circle after all, with some of this in our systems it might not be so bad anymore."

Opening the bottle, Cam took a healthy gulp and coughed.

"Yes, it should work."

Outstretching her hand, Brennan accepted the bottle, and then the alcohol, some kind of cheap Whiskey, she realized, burned down her throat. Her stomach revolted, but only briefly, and soon a pleasant kind of warmth spread out in her insides, and she smiled.

"Alcohol seems to be one way to make the night more bearable."

"I hear you. Come on, let's make this place cozy."

When Hodgins and Booth came back five minutes later, the area in front of the old fireplace was fairly dust-free and some blankets were spread out on the floor. On a makeshift table Cam had arranged their leftover food, and Hodgins whistled, as he noticed the open bottle.

"You found booze."

"You found... some chairs? And why are you wearing Booth's hockey gear?"

The curly-haired man almost blushed.

"It was this or my wet clothes since Booth refused to give me the suit."

"No way I'm sitting here in my hockey stuff," Booth jumped in, carrying some pieces of wood that looked as if they'd been a shelf in their former life.

"Alcohol?" He wrinkled his nose. "Is that such a good idea?"

"Yes," Cam and Brennan stated in unison, both of them drinking straight from the bottle once again.

"One of us should stay sober, though, and since you are the Ranger," Hodgins implied, snatching the bottle from Cam.

"Alright, I get it," Booth sighed, crouching down in front of the fireplace.

Outside, the snow was battling with the wind, inside the bottle was circling, and a few minutes later, the scent of flames filled the air, accompanied by dancing light and a hunch of warmth.

"We need more wood to make it through the night. Come on, Hodgins, let's hack that old table as well."

The other man groaned, ogling the bottle longingly.

"Maybe Dr. B wants to?"

Brennan shook her head.

"If I recall correctly, fire is a guy thing."

"Crap."

Hodgins got up with a sigh, leaving the two women alone in front of the flickering fire. Brennan took a muesli bar, chewing slowly, and Cam toyed with one of the sandwiches. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Dr. Brennan? May I ask you a question?"

"You already have."

Cam felt those irritating deep blue eyes on her, and if it hadn't been for the alcohol already circulating through her system, she might have rethought her next words. So she didn't.

"Why are you so angry at Booth?"

"I am not... angry at him."

"I mean in general. Ever since he came back."

Brennan's gaze dropped, and for a moment, she lost herself in the dancing firelight. Then she reached for their bottle anew.

"He hasn't told me."

"I get that, he should have. But he apologized."

"He left without telling," Brennan whispered, and, suddenly, everything made sense.

Unbeknownst to them, Booth had approached the room, but upon hearing their words, he stilled without entering, sucking in a breath.

Moving on the thin ice of tentative friendship, Cam reached out her hand to touch Brennan's arm.

"He didn't know. You were on his list. He didn't even put _my_ name on it, but he wanted for _you_ to know. He would never abandon you."

"From where I was standing, he did," came the soft reply, and Cam felt a sudden hunch of tender warmth for her stubborn coworker.

"He is alive, Dr. Brennan. Did you even put your arms around him ever since? Have you felt his heartbeat? When he was dead, what did you want?"

"I... I just wanted him back."

"To yell at him? To argue with him?"

"No... I... I don't know."

"You've gotten a second chance. Do you realize that?"

Suddenly, Brennan found it very hard to speak, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"I don't know what to do about it. I... I just don't know."

"Human beings are not meant to live alone."

"Are you speaking about romantic entanglements, Dr. Saroyan?"

"We have the ability to touch each other. It's both a gift and a burden. Can't you just accept the gift part of it every once in a while?"

Brennan frowned.

"That is too figurative."

Cam took the bottle with a sigh.

"Let me put it this way. You've mourned his loss without ever having _had_ him."

"Had him?"

"Well, in the entangling kind of way, romantic or not."

"The way you've had him?"

There was sudden sharpness in Brennan's voice that took Cam by surprise.

"We've never touched each other, Dr. Brennan." Cam's eyes were big and candid. "Not like you two do. I've never been what you are for him."

"And what am I?"

The storm had left them unguarded and vulnerable, and both women regarded each other with new honesty. Finally, Cam broke the gaze, pushing the bottle back into Brennan's hand.

"I'm sorry, but that one you have to figure out by yourself."

"I don't believe in the things he believes in."

"But you believe in him. Just like he believes in you. The people who infuriate you the most are the only ones who can make you truly happy. Because they matter. Just... just consider this, will you?"

"I... I will. What about you?"

Cam laughed out.

"I've never been _that_ mad at Booth. Do you know that he stopped gambling the day he met you?"

Brennan's head flung around.

"He told me about his gambling problem and that he was dealing with it."

"Well, he wasn't dealing with it before you and your funny ponytail came into his life."

One more swig.

"You think the ponytail was funny?"

Harrumphing loudly, Booth chose that moment to enter the room, his arms full of chopped wood, and the women froze.

"Booth..."

"What did you hear, Seeley?"

"Something about a funny ponytail," he lied, rearranging the wood in the cracking fire. His face was glowing, but he managed to hide it. Hodgins entered the room shortly after, oblivious to the shared and overheard secrets.

"I'd say we bet the old furniture. I'm fairly hungry now."

Cam patted the blanket next to her.

"Take a seat, dinner is ready."

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

II.

They talked, they drank, they ate. Under the cover of a snowstorm, anecdotes of the past were brought to life, and the golden booze lifted the spirit... only bypassing Booth, but he stayed sober happily. The conversation he had overheard was still echoing in his heart, and, every now and then, his gaze flickered to Brennan, her face glowing in the warm light of the fire.

He remembered her ponytail. It had been cute and carefree and maybe just a little bit funny. He remembered his confession as well, followed by their hungry kiss in the rain. Something inside of him clenched at the thought. The memory of having her in his arms had been buried for so long – it was simply safer this way – but now that Cam had mentioned it, he realized almost painfully that he hadn't held Brennan at all after his fake death. Once, in her weakest moment, she had put her head on his shoulder, but he hadn't felt the heavy warmth of her body in his arms; she hadn't heard the reassuring beat of his heart under her ear.

They hadn't spoken about her grief, not once. She seemed to be so strong that, sometimes, he forgot that she wasn't. Shifting a little bit on his spot on the blanket – only to get closer to the fire, of course – he moved beside her until his arm could touch hers. At least, it was some kind of contact. Turning her head, Brennan gave him a tiny smile, and he could see that something between the night, the snow and the alcohol had softened her.

Next to them, Cam and Hodgins were laughing about one of the countless ill-fated experiments the entomologist and Zack had once performed – "King of the Lab!" – and, relying on their distraction, Booth lifted his hand to cover Brennan's fingers with his.

"Are you cold?" he whispered, but she shook her head.

"The combination of your fire and the alcohol is quite effective."

"Bones... I know that you can turn old chairs into firewood, but I didn't want to change clothes in front of you, okay?"

Oh. _Oh_...

"So, it wasn't about me being a woman?"

He chuckled lightly, his thumb caressing her knuckles ever so softly.

"Well, it was, but not like you thought it was."

Something about his touch made her shiver, but she blamed it on the temperature in the room.

"Maybe I'm a little cold after all."

"You wanna destroy some more chairs?"

Her eyes sparkled.

"Sure."

"Hey, guys? We're fetching more wood."

Hodgins had taken the bottle out of Cam's hand.

"Have fun," he slurred, and Booth grinned.

"Why are you smirking like that, big man?"

"Because_ I_ won't be the one with a hangover tomorrow."

Hodgins waved it off, and Cam reached for the bottle quite clumsily.

"Tomorrow means we've survived the night. I'm fine with tomorrow. Do you remember that bug race, Hodgins?"

Their laughter followed Booth and Brennan into the colder and darker rooms of the cottage, and she shivered upon stepping out of the firelight.

"Collecting wood doesn't seem to be so appealing anymore."

In the dark privacy of the hallway, Booth stopped, inhaling an emboldening breath before outstretching his hand and pulling her, so very slowly, against his body. For a brief moment, Brennan forgot how to move, but them his arms around her tightened, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He was wearing one of his work suits, she was clad in the usual Jeffersonian coverall and her winter jacket. It was like always, only that it wasn't.

"Booth," she whispered, but he silenced her.

"Shh... just one moment, okay?"

"Are you scared?" she asked hesitantly, and he remembered their conversation.

_I get scared and I'll hug you._

It would be easy, so very easy to say yes. It was a reason she could understand, but it would be cowardly all the same.

"No, I'm not."

She squirmed in his arms, but he refused to let her go, and then, somehow, her ear ended up pressed to his chest, and she could hear it. _Thump. Thump. Thump-thump._ Closing her eyes in sudden weakness, Brennan inhaled deeply, and, accompanied by the reassuring rhythm of his heart, she could smell his scent. Warm and male and Booth.

On their own volition, her fists clutched the fabric of his suit jacket, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"You left me."

The words came out without thinking, and even though they were carried on a whisper, there was nothing soft about them.

"You are angry, I know. I've betrayed you."

Lifting her head, she stared at him in surprise.

"Yes... at least it feels that way."

He raised one hand to cup her face, hot despite the cold.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know, and therefore my feelings don't make any sense."

The frown he knew so well appeared between her eyes, and he caressed it away.

"That's okay, feelings don't have to make sense all the time."

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she wrapped her arms fiercely around his midsection.

"You are not allowed to be dead, Booth."

He chuckled, his lips helpless not to kiss her temple.

"Trust me, you have my fullest support in that."

One blink later, raw blue and unguarded brown, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes just when he lowered his head, and their lips brushed over each other. It was soft and chaste, but it was enough to banish the snowstorm, the cottage and the rest of the world. And then she was in his arms, fully and heavy, her back against the wall, her thighs around his waist... and he was kissing her, or she was kissing him. Open-mouthed, soul-deep kisses without restraint or safety net.

She was moaning into his mouth, and the sound hit him deeply, causing heat to gather low in his belly. She tasted like fresh water and felt like velvet, and the arm that wasn't supporting her weight palmed her head, holding her in place while the silkiness of her hair run through his fingers.

And she was kissing him; was kissing him like fire and snow and rain, her arms around him, holding, touching, pulling, everywhere at the same time.

In the darkness of the storm a fire had been lit, warming her, burning him... until their bodies were humming with hunger that had long consumed their souls.

"Booth," she murmured, and he was peppering sweet little kisses all over her face, all the while desperate to deepen their contact.

Her hands slid under his jacket, tugging at his shirt until she had access to the warm skin underneath, and he was kissing down her throat to her collarbone. She gasped, as his tongue darted out to dip into the valley right next to the bone itself, and he did it again.

"I'm so, so sorry, Bones," he whispered over and over again, between kisses and caresses, until every part of her being believed the truth.

"Are you okay out there?" came a half-drunk voice out of the other room, and – bang – their magic bubble burst and they were back in the old hallway.

"Crap," Booth muttered, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Yeah, Bones here is a little bit clumsy," he yelled back, and the woman in his arms slapped him unceremoniously.

"Ouch."

"Booth seems to be out of shape, Dr. Hodgins," she added dryly, and the man in front of her ogled her with hurt pride.

"Mean," he hissed, but on her face he found nothing but softness, and so he pecked her lips one more time.

"Are we okay, Bones?"

He let go of her, and she slid down his body, an unconscious whimper of protest escaping her lips.

"We... we will be."

"This isn't finished," he said, and she wasn't sure if it was meant to be a promise or a warning.

Lifting his hand to her lips, she surprised both of them by dropping a tender kiss into his palm.

"I know. Let's... let's make fire, shall we?"

He chuckled breathlessly.

"Something tells me we will be good at that."

-BONES-

They were good at it. She managed to hack a chair rather quickly, and their improvised fire did last the whole night, bathing two passed out and snoring squints in golden light.

Brennan didn't sleep at all, but she did pretend so, and the pretext gave her an excuse to stay close to his warmth. As for Booth... he didn't even pretend. His gaze on her sleeping face, he studied her in the quiet hours of the night. He knew her delicate features by heart, but tonight was different, and he was just taking her in. Flawless skin, long lashes, soft and wavy hair. Dark circles around her closed eyes, the hint of a smile in the curve of her lips. He wanted to banish the first and deepen the latter. He wanted to hold her and keep her warm. He wanted to do so many things with and for her.

Every now and then, Booth checked the fire and their colleagues, but Cam and Hodgins had succumbed to the heavy sleep of drunkenness. The storm outside had silenced, and, despite the uncomfortable setting, Booth realized that he hadn't felt so content in a very long time.

Sometime between four and five am, watching Brennan wasn't enough anymore, and when he came back from rearranging the fire, he simply laid down behind her, wrapping her into the blanket of his embrace. Unseen by him, clear blue eyes flew open, and a tiny moment later, her small hand slipped into his bigger one.

It stayed there until dawn broke.

And it was nice. It was very nice.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Their rescue team came early in the morning, a big truck that shoveled its way through the snow, and along with a mechanic – where Booth was grateful for – they brought a Thermos bottle of coffee – where Cam and Hodgins were even more than grateful for – and donuts.

Exhaustion was kicking in, and with stubbly cheek and a wrinkled suit, Booth was sure that he looked about as wasted as he felt. The only consolation was that Cam and Hodgins looked even worse, both of them sporting the telltale signs of a full-fledged hangover.

"Listen, man, I'm really really sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone with the fire all night long, that was very uncool," Hodgins whined, but Booth played down the issue.

It might be unfair or not, but they were his people, and Seeley Booth would always be a ranger at heart.

"Thanks for making sure that we didn't burn or freeze to death," Cam added weakly, deciding that bright sunlight and snow were a very bad combination when it came to headaches.

Brennan was rather silent, sipping her coffee while watching the mechanic working on their SUV, and she was the only one still looking graceful somehow, Booth mused – but then again, he wasn't really that objective when it came to judging her appearance.

As if on cue, she turned her head and found his gaze on her. Blinking against the sunlight, she tilted her head, giving him a little smile, and his lips curved up in response, as he approached her.

Had she been more observant, Cam could have noticed the shift between them. It was subtle, but there was eye contact, real eye contact, and while the tension between them was still there, it had lost its sharp edge and was, once again, sweetly loaded with possibilities. Booth's arm brushed Brennan's, and they laughed about something, the pearling sound of it almost too carefree for the ears of two hungover scientists.

Clinging to her coffee mug, Cam sighed and Hodgins next to her nodded weakly.

"I know."

"We owe him."

"Big time."

"Why does Dr. Brennan look so good? She's had the same night."

"She stopped drinking at some point."

"Maybe we should have done the same," Cam stated.

Hodgins let go of a grunt that could be affirmative or not, but then he nudged her hips with his.

"It was kind of fun. Talking about Zack and stuff. Remembering the good times."

Cam tried to nod, but it turned into a painful moan shortly after.

"I hope the guy can fix our car soon. I need a shower."

Her hopes weren't futile and it was only twenty minutes later, when the mechanic shut the hood, declaring the car as good as new. On top of that, the man provided them with snow chains, reassuring them that they should make it back home in one piece.

Cam and Hodgins collapsed on the backseat with a mutual sigh of relief, but Brennan snatched the car keys out of Booth's hand.

"I'm driving, Booth."

"No, you're not."

"You are sleep-deprived and they," one gesture in the general direction of their slumped coworkers, "are still intoxicated. I should drive."

"Bones... you didn't really sleep at all, did you?" His voice had lowered to an almost intimate whisper that made Cam prick up her ears.

Next to the car, Brennan refused to back down, even though her cheeks seemed to be covered by a faint blush. Interesting. Very interesting.

"But I rested. You took care of the fire and made sure that... the rest of us stayed warm."

"Bones..."

Her hand brushed his arm.

"It's your time to be taken care of. Let me do this."

The conversation wasn't over, but the rest was said without words, and, eventually, Booth nodded, accepting defeat.

Inside the car, Cam poked Hodgins' ribcage.

"Did you see that?"

"Hmm?"

"Booth and Brennan?"

"I don't care who's driving as long as it isn't me," he mumbled with closed eyes.

"Really, Dr. Hodgins? Now you disappoint me."

"Are we back to using titles?"

"Forget it, you are a crappy observer."

The passenger door opened, and Cam hurried to shut her mouth, as Booth climbed into the car. Brennan followed shortly after, and a few minutes later they had left the old cottage behind, heading home.

-BONES-

The drive had taken them less than two hours the day before, but that had been before the snow, and one hour into their slow way back home, everybody but Brennan had dozed off. Despite her own lack of sleep, she didn't feel tired; there was so much to process and she had always done her best thinking alone.

Risking one quick sideways glance, she sneaked a peek at her partner, his face peaceful in sleep. Now it was her turn to guard him, and the situation filled her with unexpected tenderness. Brennan decided that she liked it, taking care of him.

If she was very honest, she liked even more than that. Last night, pressed against that wall, her whole world had somehow fallen right into him, and it had been scary but wonderful at the same time. Cam had been right, Brennan admitted, there was no one in this whole wide world who could touch her like Booth. And, maybe, it was just like that for him. He had studied her last night, she knew that, and then he had held her, had provided her with more than just warmth.

Next to her, he mumbled and stirred in sleep, and she outstretched one hand to calm him. He grabbed it with unexpected strength, and, with an unconscious sigh, Booth nestled deeper into his seat, using her palm as a pillow. Deciding that she could steer the vehicle one-handed for a while, Brennan let him keep her hand. She could feel the roughness of his cheek and the warmth of his breath on her skin.

And it was nice. Again.

-BONES-

Two hours and a lot of snowy miles later, they had finally reached DC. Rousing Cam had been surprisingly easy, and the pathologist was more than grateful upon finding herself outside her apartment building. Waking up Hodgins had been harder, but, eventually, she had managed it, and on her way to drop off the last car passenger, Brennan found it more and more difficult to keep her eyes straight ahead.

"Booth."

"Hmm. What is it?"

His voice was drowsy, and she poked his arm to alert him.

"Wake up, you're almost at home."

Shaking his head, he tried to banish the haze of sleep.

"What time is it?"

"Past eleven."

"Uh. Work," he uttered, but she shook her head.

"I called, nobody expects us today."

She tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably.

"You need to sleep, Booth."

"Pot calling the kettle black."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Another yawn later, she stopped in front of his building, and his hand darted out to turn the key in the ignition.

"Booth!"

"You are not driving anymore, that's just plain irresponsible."

Blinking once, twice, she acknowledged that he was right.

"I'll call a cab."

"You can crash here."

"I need a toothbrush..."

"I have a spare one."

"... and clean clothes."

"I have something that'll fit."

"Underwear?"

"Uh... boxers?"

"That doesn't really qualify as underwear."

"Don't be so difficult."

She wasn't really sure how he finally managed to talk her into staying, but thirty minutes later, Brennan found herself in Booth's living room, freshly-showered, wearing one of his old tees, sweatpants that were too big and one of his boxers underneath. If she hadn't been so damn tired, the situation might have been awkward, but, right now, the level of intimacy added to her dozy state of comfort. He padded into the room on bare feet shortly after, his hair damp from his own shower, carrying a pile of blankets and pillows in his arms.

"You can have the bed."

"No way." She shook her head. "You've spent the last night on a floor."

"So have you," he deadpanned, and she blinked sleepily.

"I'm smaller. I'll be fine on the couch."

"I want you to be warm and comfortable," he added with more honesty than intended.

"I'll be," she stated softly.

"Of course..." he begun, but his voice trailed off somewhat hesitantly.

"Of course?"

"I have this very big bed."

She gnawed her lip, and he hurried to clarify. After all, this was Bones, and one could never be literal enough with her.

"Big enough for the two of us."

She thought about his arms, and part of her wanted to accept the offer very badly.

"That is too generous," she mumbled, but he cut her off.

"And purely selfish as well, you get that, right?"

Gathering his last ounce of strength, he reached for her hand.

"Do you want to sleep here or over there in my room?"

Her gaze fell to their hands, his thumb caressing her fingers.

"There," she finally whispered, and he set himself in motion, pulling her with him.

The second her exhausted body hit the mattress, Brennan sighed with relief, and, after closing the blinds, he slipped under the covers next to her.

"Bones," he started, and she hummed a sleepy reply.

"Thanks for driving."

A smile he couldn't see appeared on her face, and she rolled in his direction until her nose bumped against his shoulder.

"Ouch," she mumbled, and, with a chuckle, he took her warm body into his arms.

Lifting on hand, she caressed his cheek.

"Scratchy."

"Too lazy."

"I like it."

"This is nice," he murmured languidly and after a while, "Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Were you drunk last night?"

He needed to know, and she understood him immediately.

"Not much. I stopped after you kissed me."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to forget."

Her answer soothed insecurities he hadn't even been aware of, and sudden joy made him dizzy somehow. He pulled her just a little bit tighter.

"So you didn't?"

"Forget?"

"Hm-hmm."

"No."

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

Peaceful silence filled the room, and she was almost asleep, when she heard his voice anew.

"So sorry about Zack."

She went rigid in his arms, but only briefly.

"I know," she whispered.

"And about dying."

"Just... don't do it again."

He nuzzled her hair with his nose, smiling as he found the scent of his own shampoo on her.

"Promise. Will you still be here when I wake up?"

"My underwear is in your dryer, and I have no idea how to open it."

"Just push all the buttons at once and kick it."

"When will you finally buy a machine that works properly?"

"Hmm... I have a soft spot for stubbornness."

Her fingers played with the surprisingly silky hair on his nape.

"Is there a hidden double meaning?"

"Was it hidden?"

"So... you have a soft spot for me as well?"

"No spot. Just soft."

Brennan yawned once again, but she still fought against the sweet pull of sleep.

"Tomorrow we can make a snowman," he murmured.

She chuckled.

"I've never done that."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

She shrugged lazily in his arms.

"It so sad to see it melting."

"But it's beautiful while it lasts. And fun."

With fluttering eyelids, she thought about snowmen.

"Okay..."

A drowsy kiss landed in her hair, and she burrowed her face in softness that was maybe Booth or maybe a pillow. Whatever it was, it smelled comfortingly like him.

"Sleep tight."

"Goodnight, Bones."

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

He awoke in the late hours of evening, blinking several times against the early twilight. There was something important that bothered him, but Booth couldn't really put his finger on it. Rolling around, he buried his face in the second pillow, smelling... her... _Bones. Snow. Fire._ Brown hair on his pillow, her voice in the darkness. His arms full of her warmth.

Of course, she was the important thing. When had she not been? Suddenly, his heart felt very heavy, and he had to get away from the sheets that smelled like her, from the bed that had cradled her. Besides, maybe she had only left his bed but not his apartment.

"Bones?"

No answer. Not even a cup of coffee. However, his dryer was empty. She was gone.

Slumping down on his couch, he rubbed his face with his palms. Whoa, he should really shave, Booth realized. So, she was gone... That wasn't really out of character, but, still, he wished she hadn't left. He wished that two nights could make a difference, could make things right and whole again. At least, holding her had felt like this for him. And he had hoped so much, had almost been sure that for her as well, but then again, maybe he had been wrong about that... Maybe she was too much herself; maybe his fake death had crushed more of her faith in him than he had been aware of, maybe...

With a long sigh, he grabbed his cell, hitting speed dial. She answered on the second ring.

"Brennan."

"You promised to be here."

Shit, that came out more pathetic than intended.

"If I recall correctly, I said I couldn't open your dryer. Then you provided me with the information."

"And it was the logical thing to leave, I get it."

"Open your door."

"What?"

"Open your door."

With a puzzled expression on his face, Booth heaved himself out of the couch and padded towards the door, and... there she was, clad in a teddy-bear-like parka, balancing two mugs of coffee in one hand.

"The logical thing to do was getting coffee – by the way, yours is out of stock – and change into attire suitable for the task of building a snowman. I also purchased this."

Pushing the coffee mugs into his hands, she pulled a carrot out of her pocket.

"Research shows that carrots are commonly used as noses for snowmen. Why... why are you looking at me like that?"

He tried to close his mouth and opened it again.

Tilting her head, she ogled him curiously. Blue eyes, brown hair under a red woolen hat, rosy cheeks. Beautiful and gorgeous and brilliant and just a little bit funny.

"What?"

"You are truly extraordinary," he finally managed to say, and she just shrugged.

"I know."

Finally stepping into his apartment, she noticed the tousled hair and his state of dress for the first time. He looked exactly like he had when she had crawled out of his arms two hours earlier, only more awake, and, just like then, something inside of her moved at the sight of him so undisguised.

"You just got up?"

A nod was her answer, while he took a sip of his coffee.

"You know... I thought you were gone."

"Well, I was gone."

She looked at him with wide and innocent eyes, and an involuntary smile spread out on his face. Some things would never change, and, suddenly, Booth found it oddly reassuring. Closing the distance to her in two long steps, he captured the teddy-bear that was his partner in a strong hug.

"Thanks for coming back with coffee and a carrot," he whispered.

His rough cheek scratched over the wool of her hat.

"Thanks for persuading me to stay," came her soft reply.

"Thanks for staying."

Tilting her head, she kissed his cheek quickly before stepping back, but her eyes were bright.

"I find that I'm quite excited about our snowman plans. When can we start?"

"Thirty minutes. I need a shower and something to eat first."

"Try twenty. I'll make breakfast."

She did make breakfast – or dinner, given the late hour – and when he went in search for his gloves twenty minutes later, Booth found out that this wasn't all she had made. Something inside of him fluttered, as he regarded the smooth covers, the neatly arranged pillows, and then she stepped beside him.

"You made my bed," he whispered.

"It was only fair since I slept in it as well."

Turning his head, he met her gaze, and it was a moment so intimate and new, but, still – still! – he was Booth and she was his Bones.

"No spot, only soft," he repeated his words from earlier that morning, and she leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder for a brief moment.

"Booth..."

"Sh, it's okay. I," he cleared his throat, "I found my gloves. Shall we go?"

"Most definitely."

They decided that the rose garden behind the Jeffersonian would be a perfect spot for a snowman, and in the gray light of a winter evening, he steered the car towards their direction. It had stopped snowing some time ago, but everything was covered by the white magic, bathing the world in an ethereal light. The radio was playing a soft tune, and he could almost taste the peace on his tongue. It was surreal, but oh so nice. Every once in a while, Booth risked a quick glance at his partner, and for someone with three doctorates, she looked oddly excited about the simple prospect of building a snowman.

And his heart opened.

-BONES-

"No, you have to roll it."

"Like this?"

The snowball crumbled between her eager hands, and she groaned in frustration.

"I'm doing it wrong."

"No, it's okay, Bones. Be gentle with the ball. Press the snow until it is firm, and then roll it. Just like this."

Their snowman already had a proud foundation, and now Booth was forming a second globe just as easily. Looking up from his work, he caught her frustrated expression, biting back a laugh. She was too cute when she was pouting like this.

"Come here."

Outstretching one hand, he pulled her in front of him until her back was pressed to his chest and all of their hands were rolling and pushing the ball through the thick snow.

"Now slap it."

"Slap it?"

"Yeah, it's too fluffy otherwise. Just, be gentle."

Removing his hands, he peeked over her shoulder to observe her work.

"That's it. Now roll some more."

"Okay, I think I understand it now."

His arms came around her again to help her with the rolling, and he caught a whiff of her winter scent. How could she possibly smell like cinnamon?

"There's nothing to understand, Bones. Listen, this is Mr. Snowman. He's already there, you just have to find him. Help him to come alive."

Her nose wrinkled – not that he could see it – and she stilled.

"That's ridiculous, Booth, he won't be alive."

"Sh... don't ruin it. Mr. Snowman here is very proud, and if you don't take him serious, he'll disappear. Crumble between your fingers."

Patting the round globe with his glove-glad palm, he measured the ball.

"Good size. You wanna lift it?"

"Sure."

"But don't forget, this is Mr. Snowman."

"Okay. Hello, uh, Mr. Snowman," she murmured while trying to get a grasp on the slippery ball. "Even though you don't possess a spine, you'll be erect in some moments. Just... whoa!"

She stumbled with the big ball in her hands, but he managed to catch her mid-fall, rescuing the snowman body part. In his arms, she was breathing heavily.

"This is heavier than excepted."

"Let me."

Taking the ball out of her arms and adding it to their snowman foundation happened in one swift move.

"Aha! See?"

"Indeed, very impressive."

"Now we need a head."

"A smaller ball?"

"Yes."

"I can do that."

"Go ahead, Bones, knock yourself out."

She didn't knock herself out, after all, she was Dr. Temperance Brennan and she had always possessed an irritatingly steep learning curve, and merely five minutes later, the head could be placed on top of their snowman.

"I did it!"

"You did it."

Turning around with bright eyes, she flung her arms around his neck, catching him utterly off guard.

"Bones!"

"Ah!"

Dumb eyes under snow-powdered hair, he was lying underneath her on the ground, and, not daring too move, she ogled him cautiously.

"Sorry. Did you hurt your back? The snow should have softened the- ah!"

He rolled her around in the blink of an eye until the snow was her bed and he was her... whatsoever.

"That was impressively fast," she uttered, and he tried to suppress a chuckle.

"Yeah, I know."

"Impressively cold as well."

"Move your legs, Bones."

"What?"

"Your legs. And your arms. We're making a snow angel."

"A snow angel?"

"Yes, just like this."

His glove-covered hands found hers, clasping them, and he moved her arms as if they were wings in the snow. Brave enough to lower his head, he buried it in her shoulder, moving his limbs with her... and once more they were burning in the snow. He could feel the softness of her curves beneath him, the warmth of her breath on his neck, the grip of her fingers through the material of their gloves. He could feel every inch of her, and even though one very strong part inside of him yelled that crushing her was not very gentleman-like, for the love of God, he couldn't move away.

Then neither of them was moving anymore, they were just lying in the snow, breathing, feeling... stunned and helpless.

Still wondering why lying in the damp snow could possibly feel that good, Booth sensed the movement of her head, and then her own cold cheek was brushing his face in an almost intimate caress.

"This is a snow angel?" she finally whispered, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Bracing himself on his forearms, he got up, brushing the cold flakes away from his clothes and offering her a hand.

"Yes. Come, I'll help you see it."

She was always heavier than expected, he realized, as he pulled her onto her feet, and then they were both studying the imprint in the snow, the angel that was both him and her.

"It looks like an angel," she accepted after a while, her voice as soft as the winter light.

"I know," he whispered beside her, feeling ridiculously moved. "And this," he cleared his throat while gesturing at the figure next to them, "this looks like a snowman. Wanna decorate it?"

She nodded, her bobble hat bobbing in the faint light.

"Time for the carrot?"

"Time for the carrot. And we need some stones for eyes and mouth. Take these."

"Oh..."

"Oh?"

"We forget to bring a scarf or a hat."

"It's okay, it doesn't have to be perfect."

"No, it does." Gnawing her lip, Brennan removed her own scarf and hat. "It doesn't make sense, but I believe Mr. Snowman deserves this."

Utterly touched, he watched how she dressed their snowman. And, suddenly, it was perfect.

"See?" she whispered, and, somehow, he didn't even know how, her hand ended up in his.

"Yes, I see. But now you'll be cold."

"No, it's okay."

Unwrapping his own scarf, he twisted it in his hands.

"It's not."

And a moment later it was wrapped around her neck, providing her with warmth and with the familiar comfort of his very own scent.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Uh... Bones?"

"Hm?"

"Truth or dare?"

"I don't know what that means."

"It's a game. You have to pick truth or dare."

"Okay. Dare."

"Make another snow angel."

"On my own?"

"Yep."

Her eyes sought an untouched spot of snow, and then she was letting herself fall with a laugh. Her arms and legs stirred up the snow and it was so child-like, so beautiful that his chest ached with sudden pain. Of course, her angel turned out to be flawless.

"Truth or dare, Booth?" she asked, dusting off the snow.

"Truth."

"When did you make your last snowman?"

"Last year with Parker. It only lasted three days before it melted, but we had tons of fun. Truth or dare, Bones?"

"Dare."

"Kiss the snowman."

"Why?"

"Because I said it."

Rolling her eyes, she approached their cold companion, pecking his icy cheek.

"Uh..." she shuddered, and he laughed.

"Dare."

"Catch me."

She had a head start, but his legs were longer, and soon their sprint through the snow ended with him grabbing her around her waist. Once again, they tumbled into the cold mass as a tangle of limbs and ice and laughter.

"Truth," she said after a moment of hesitation, looking up at him with clear eyes, and he blew the snow out of her face.

"How... how did you feel when I was dead?"

Her eyes clouded quicker than ever possible.

"Booth..."

"Please."

Turning her head, she avoided his gaze, and he rolled down from her to give her some space.

"I... They didn't let me see your body. I didn't want to accept it... Angela reconstructed your death for me. To make me believe..."

Out of the blue their former easy banter was all forgotten and darkness was weighing like a heavy cloud above their heads. Biting his lips, Booth wished he could take back the words.

"Bones..."

"It was too much... I couldn't. Just couldn't," she whispered. "And I didn't. Did nothing. It was just bleak and sharp and empty. All inside of me..."

Her tiny sob broke through the night, cut straight into his insides.

"You were gone, and I wasn't Bones anymore. Nothing was real."

"Oh, Bones..."

She sniffled.

"Truth or dare, Booth?"

"Dare."

"Hug me."

Then he was all around her, warm in the snow, alive in the cold. Stroking, caressing, soothing, his name for her falling into the winter night over and over again, his lips touching her hair, her brow, everything he could reach.

"I would have done worse without you," he finally said, his voice as raw as any voice ever spoken,

"Cam," she took a shuddered breath, trembling in his embrace, "Cam said something the other night. About mourning without ever having known. And maybe... maybe that's the saddest part."

"I am so, so sorry... If only I could turn back the hands... If only you could trust me again..."

His voice trailed off, and, blinking against the tears, she looked at him in surprise.

"I trust you. I always have and always will."

"Despite..."

"Yes. It's just... you've come into my world of reason and science, and I was content, I really was, but with your faith and your energy... your theories about love... you've messed it up and now... my world feels so empty without you. I don't wanna need you... but maybe I do."

"Oh Bones," he murmured, almost crushing her in his arms, but, still, she felt safe, so safe. "I need you, too, you know that, right?"

"This thing with one of us dying? We've tried it, it didn't work out so well. Let's not do that again, okay?"

"Deal," he answered, pressing his lips into her hair, and she inhaled a deep breath.

"Truth or dare, Booth?"

"Uh... it's my turn... but truth."

"Would you... kiss me?"

Her words were a tiny caress in the cold. As were his.

"Yes."

His lips followed his truth, slanting down on hers, warm and full and soft. Nibbling, caressing, giving, until she parted her mouth ever so slightly and his tongued slipped in. Could one kiss pain away? Seeley Booth didn't know it, but if it was possible, he wanted to do it; if it was possible, she wanted to accept it.

One kiss turned into another, turned into a flow of soft but deep kisses, the snowman their only witness, and he was cradling her in his arms as if she was the most important thing in this world. Just like she was. They were kissing until her metaphorical heart felt so full as if it might burst, until his breath was her breath and the snow around them almost melting.

"I forgive you," she finally whispered, freeing his soul from a burden he hadn't even know to its full extent, and he who never cried felt tears pricking behind his eyelids.

"Thank you," he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut while pressing her to his chest. "Thank you."

"Stay with me tonight," she said, and it was neither truth nor dare or maybe it was even both; regardless, he simply nodded.

"Yes."

He gathered her from the ground, their snowman standing proudly, almost smiling at his builders, and in a night that was both fire and snow, she took his hand to make him forgive and forget as well.

She was Temperance Brennan. But she had evolved.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

_This is M. And utterly mushy.  
><em>

V.

Everybody has a story; some are as blue as a saxophone solo in the wee hours of morning, some are like easygoing days in the sunny month of May. Some are just complicated, full of turns and twists. Soft spots and sharp edges.

And... sometimes... it only takes a winter's tale to change everything. Years of hesitancy, longing and baby steps are covered up by the sweet oblivion of snow, and in the cold, people huddle, seeking a tiny bit of warmth.

In such a winter's night, she was taking him home.

It was neither pathetic nor desperate, but in the last 24 hours there had been a snowstorm and a snowman. There had been truths and dares. And a carrot. Walls had been crumbling. Comfort had been given and found.

Sleeping with Booth would be the next logical step, but, somehow, the things she felt, the urge to get even closer to him, had nothing to do with logic.

Making love to Brennan would be a dream come true, but even aside from the fact that he had wanted her for the past three and a half years, suddenly something about the prospect felt almost reasonable.

They were riding in silence, and silence followed them into her building up to her apartment. Silence mingled with darkness, as she unlocked her door for him, and a trace of her scent lingered in the air, wrapping him into the room version of Brennan.

"No Tequila," she whispered, and his lips curved up, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

"Do you need some?"

She let go of a throaty laugh, and he could feel the tingling sensation of goosebumps tickling his arms.

"Better not."

"Listen, Bones, we don't have to do this..."

"Yes, we do."

"Because of a snowman?"

"Because of everything."

In the darkness, she turned around, and then he could feel the soft pressure of her hands on his chest.

"And tomorrow?" he dared to ask.

"Hmm... I could imprison your underwear in my dryer as well," she offered, her fingers playing with the buttons of his coat.

Taking one more step, the final one, towards her, he encircled her in his arms.

"I won't leave."

A promise.

"I won't ask you to."

Another one.

Undoing the final button, she slid her hands inside his parted coat, pressing her cheek to his chest in a gesture of utmost trust and surrender.

"I am who I am, Booth," she stated after a while, her voice almost tiny. "But I'll try my best to be a compatible partner. Is that... is that enough?"

Tilting his head, he brushed her cold hair with his cheek.

"I know who you are," he answered, tightening his hold on her. "And it's more than enough. It's the best. Bones... are you sure?"

She lifted her head, but in the shadows of the night he could only guess the look in her eyes.

"Yes. Regarding the events of the past weeks, not doing this is not an option anymore. I always believed that love is ephemeral, cannot last, but I forgot to take one important thing into consideration: Life itself is just as ephemeral... maybe even more. Booth... do you want me?"

He laughed out loud.

"Are you kidding me?"

And just like that, he kissed her.

"I take that as a yes," she murmured against his lips, and he laughed again.

"Hell, yes."

"I was just asking because... oh... because you keep asking... keep asking if I'm sure so I figured that... _oh_... maybe... maybe you aren't so sure."

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, effectively silencing her for a while, and just when her little moans got breathless, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers.

"No doubts here, Bones, absolutely no doubts."

Clutching his lapels, she pulled him closer anew, seeking his mouth, and then she was kissing him. His fingers fumbled with her zipper, getting rid of the thick parka, and, one shrug later, his own coat met hers on the floor.

She was kissing him like she did everything, throwing herself completely into the experience, learning his taste, his responses, his sounds; filing every new information away in the corner of her mind that was solely reserved for him. Her fingers traced the contours of his face, whispering over the line of his jaw, and every breathless gasp filled her with pride, every soft groan evoked the wish to hear it again.

Then she was lifted, and despite the fact that she usually hated being carried by men, she wrapped her legs around his hips without any objections. He was Booth and not "men", and that alone made the difference.

"Where are we going?"

"Uh... no idea," he admitted, and she laughed once more.

"Alpha male."

"Are you going all anthropologically on me? 'Cause I have to say that's hot."

"Since when do you think that science is hot?"

"You are science and you are hot, so..." His voice trailed off.

"Excellent syllogism."

"Yeah, I've learned from the best."

He had carried her a few steps into the dark room, only to bump into something solid.

"Ouch."

"Table, Booth."

"Ah, that'll do."

Diving in for another kiss, he placed her on the smooth surface, following her until he was lying halfway on top of her, and, for a moment, he lost himself in the sensation that was kissing Brennan. The warmth of her lips, the velvety softness of her mouth, the way her arms fluttered over his back... and, once again, fire was consuming him and he was burning for her.

Panting heavily, Booth let go of her lips, disentangling himself from her to crouch down next to the table. She blinked in confusion.

"Booth?"

"Shoes," he explained, already tugging at the laces of her winter boots. Eager to help, she wiggled her foot, inadvertently kicking his shoulder.

"Ow," he complained. "You know, Bones, saying 'no' would have been enough."

He could hear giggles from her place on the table and almost couldn't believe it. Temperance Brennan didn't giggle... except that she did. Making short process with her boots, he hurried to get up.

Heaving herself into a sitting position, she wrapped her arms around his midsection, pulling him closer, and he stepped right between her parted legs, letting her hug him. Bowing his head, he burrowed his nose in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath... and despite the fact that he wanted her with every cell of his body, something like calmness and peace washed over him.

"I love you."

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think, and, all around him, she gasped.

A skull, a kiss, a punch. A dog funeral, a Christmas tree. Red blood pooling between her fingers. _Come on Booth! It's gonna be fine, come on Booth._ Fire in the snow. His racing heartbeat so close to hers.

One shift, a click. A shuddered exhale. Trembling arms tightening.

"I... I know. And I love you, too."

And, just like that, his peace was carrying her away on mighty wings.

In her arms he laughed, so blithely and free, was still laughing as he found her lips again, warm and soft and demanding all the same. His big palms captured her face, cupping her cheeks, and his tongue sucked greedily at hers, stroking and caressing her until, for the love of God, she wouldn't have been able to name a single bone in the human body anymore.

"Booth," she chanted between kisses, "Booth... Booth... Booth..."

"You love me," he repeated, grinning like a fool, but her smile matched his own, as she nodded.

"That's correct."

"I can already see the dedication in your next book. 'To Seeley Booth – the man I love. The one and only Andy.'"

"Don't push it," she murmured, and, palming her thighs, he wrapped her even closer around his body.

"I intend to push a lot."

"Booth!"

He laughed and kissed the shock off her face.

"You know what? You're even more adorable than in my dreams."

"You imagined this?"

"A thousand times over."

"Oh Booth..."

Wriggling his palms between the table and her buttocks, he cupped her safely, lifting her anew, and she almost rolled her eyes.

"Again?"

"Humor me."

With a soft sigh, she crossed her ankles behind his back, holding onto him.

"Where are we going now?"

"Uh... bedroom?"

"Okay, let me down."

"No! Why?"

"Because I wanna get there as well. Preferably without bruises and fractures."

"Don't you trust me?"

"This is not about trust, Booth. And you don't have to prove a point."

"Why am I not allowed to carry you?"

"I don't see the benefit. Besides, it doesn't feel fair because I cannot return the favor."

He chuckled.

"Hey, don't laugh at me!"

Damp lips collided with her collarbone, nibbling gently.

"Bones... I have to tell you a secret. When it comes to sex... there are several things that I can do and you not. And the other way round. That's what makes it so good."

She kicked him unceremoniously.

"Enough. Let me down."

Still laughing, he let her slide down his body, creating friction in the most pleasant ways.

"You are so... cocky!" she complained, and he chuckled.

"Guilty as charged. Shouldn't be that much of a surprise, though, huh?"

His voice turned serious anew.

"That's just because I'm so happy," he finally admitted, and her annoyance vanished.

With a sigh, she locked her fingers behind his neck.

"Fine. Carry me."

"Yeah?"

"If it makes you happy... Just don't endanger us more than necessary, okay?"

"Would never do that."

Picking up his precious cargo anew, Booth set himself in motion, and her head fell into the crook of his neck. Now that he wasn't teasing her anymore, Brennan could admit that it was a little bit nice, being carried by him like this. She wouldn't tell him, though.

Her nose rubbed against his shirt, catching a whiff of his unique scent. Yes, a little bit nice indeed.

"You smell good," she murmured, and he bit back a remark about pheromones. As much as he loved squinty Brennan, the soft and all female version of her was more than wonderful as well.

"Thanks."

Three little bumps later – she didn't complain, he had to give her credit for that – Booth had maneuvered them into her bedroom, placing her gently on top of her covers. Silvery moonlight was shining in through the windows, its glow intensified by the snow, and, for the first time, he could actually see her. Swollen, slightly parted lips, rosy cheeks, tousled hair.

With a content sigh, Booth kicked away his own shoes.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

She nodded with a smile.

"You have complimented my looks on several occasions in the past."

"Yeah, but do you know just how absolutely beautiful you truly are? Even aside from pretty dresses, fancy jewelry and make-up you are just so... so... pretty."

Unfamiliar warmth spread out in her stomach, and she bowed her head, whispering, "Thank you. You are very pleasing to look at yourself."

Joy lit up his whole face, and then he was lowering himself to the mattress, crawling next to her. Brennan rolled to her side until she was facing him, not more than a few inches of space and a universe of anticipation between them.

Lifting his hand, oh so slowly, he brushed a few unruly curls out of her face, and with a gentle shift, she leaned into his touch. The soft skin of her cheek brushing over the callous tips of his fingers, her hair tickling his inked wrist.

His hand traveled down her jawline around her head, cupping her nape, and then he was pulling her closer... lips meeting, tongues finding each other again. Little moans and sighs were filling the moonlit room – his or hers – and in his chest, his big, wide chest, his heart was racing in a rhythm that had always been for her.

Somehow, everything had led to this.

Soon, his fingers were tangled in the thick cotton of her shirt, seeking her softness underneath, and she shivered, as his hand was caressing her bare stomach for the first time.

"Ticklish?"

"No, not really."

Fumbling with his buttons, she tried to get closer to him as well, and even though one very uncivilized part inside of her just wanted to tug at them, she undid them one after another, methodically and carefully. She wouldn't ruin his shirt, not during their first night together. She wasn't that kind of woman... except that patience abandoned her as his wandering hand found her breast underneath her clothes, squeezing gently.

With a groan, she pushed him away.

"Take your shirt off."

He had no intention to disobey, and one moment later dress shirt and tee had made it to the floor and he was lying in front of her bare-chested. Heat rushed through her insides at the sight of him so handsome and exposed, but then her gaze zoomed in on one angry scar right next to his shoulder, and she sucked in a breath.

The night he had died... the night she had died as well...

Raising one hand, she traced the evidence of that night with one trembling finger, but then he caught her hand, lifting it to his lips.

"It's just a scar, Bones, just a scar," he mumbled between kisses.

Shaking her head, she fought against the tears.

"It has been cause of death."

"It has healed, see? Still a little bit red, but it doesn't even hurt anymore. Dead bodies cannot heal."

"That should have been my bullet, not yours."

Gentleness vanished, as he regarded her with dark and serious eyes.

"Stop, right here, right now. It was neither your bullet nor my bullet. Just _a_ bullet. Fired by a crazy woman. We survived. And now we're here."

Bowing her head, the kissed the scarred spot. New skin, old warmth.

"I don't want you to hurt," she finally whispered, and he cupped her chin, searching her gaze.

"I've hurt worse, Bones, but never before," he swallowed hard. "There has never been someone to kiss the pain away."

His honesty was hitting her deeply, and, lost for words, she flung her arms around his neck, crawling into his embrace. Arms around her tightened.

"I've got you," he murmured, kissing her hair.

"I've got you as well."

And, suddenly, it wasn't enough anymore.

Hungry lips were meeting and devouring each other, creating heat, hands hurried to pull at clothes, buttons were tugged without finesse or patience.

Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan had wasted so much time already, _almost too much_, and suddenly it seemed as if there wasn't one tiny second left to waste. The universe had given them chance after chance, and now that they were finally taking it, they couldn't take it fast enough.

The pile of clothes next to the bed was growing – why did it have to be winter? – but, eventually, there was nothing left to separate them, and, finally, he stilled, granting himself one luxurious moment to memorize the sight of her. Naked. In front of him. For the very first time.

His eyes caressed milky-white curves, lingering on the proud swell of her breasts, the valley of her navel, the... A sigh left his lips, as his gaze traveled over her most private parts, and, watching her, Booth forgot that he himself was, for the very first time, naked in front of her as well.

And her eyes caressed his impressive body; smooth, dark skin over firm muscles, a flat stomach, a line of dark curls leading to his... A sigh left her lips, as she took in the perfect size of him. He was hard for her, just for her, throbbing with need, and, licking her lips, she parted her legs just a few inches.

A groan was her answer, and then his eyes flew to her face... and down again... and right back to her face.

Lifting his hand, he touched her knee – he had to start _somewhere_, right? – caressing up her thigh. Silk, pure silk. His body followed his hand, and just when his palm cupped her so intimately for the first time, his lips closed around one perfect breast, sucking gently.

Arching beneath him, she buried her hands in his hair.

"Booth..."

He groaned against her breast, licking the tender flesh, teasing the taut peak with his teeth before sucking again. The scent of her, the taste of her combined with the guttural noised she made... it was heaven and hell likewise.

"I want you so much," he panted and, between their bodies, her hand found his hardness, stroking and pumping.

"Then take me."

"No..." His voice sounded almost desperate. "Not yet. There's so much I wanna know. What do you like? How do you taste? How do you sound when I do this?"

Two fingers dove into her in one long stroke, and a whimper close to a cry escaped her lips. She was so warm, so wet, so tight, and his mouth slanted down on hers, hard and fast. Teeth clashed, and she made that sound again, her legs parting further on a will of their own. If possible, he was getting even harder in her hand, and soon it was his turn to moan.

Gathering her strength, she flipped them around, and Booth blinked in confusion, as he found himself on his back. He didn't complain, though, because she lost no time to straddle him, his hardness nestled between her thighs, her breast pressed to his chest.

Closing her eyes in sudden weakness, she rubbed herself against him, already feeling the telltale flutter of her inner muscles. The musky scent of man and sex was lingering in the air, _his_ scent calling out to her, making her dizzy.

"While I can completely identify with... _oh_... the desire to learn things like your taste... I'd like to suggest postponing it and... oh... learning something else instead. How do you feel inside of me? How does it feel when you come inside of me?"

The breath whooshed out of his lungs at her words, and he grabbed her hips, lifting her just a few inches. And then she sunk down... and he was inside of her.

Close... so close... as close as ever possible...

The sensation was so overwhelming that she had to shut her eyes... but when she opened them again, Brennan could feel his dark gaze on her. He was looking at her, a mixture of wonder and awe on his face, something so raw but so utterly beautiful.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"Me inside of you? Awesome."

Throwing back her head in laughter, she let herself fall forward again, and he caught her in his arms, rolling them around anew. His heavy weight was pressing her into the mattress, and it should have been impossible, but she felt so light, so free. Her hands traveled down his back, squeezing his buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her snug heat, and his head sunk down, teeth burying into her shoulder.

For a while, maybe minutes, they were just lying there like this, not moving, just absorbing each other, being together... as much as two human beings can ever be together.

Then she wrapped her legs around his his, caressing his calf with her feet, and he took it as the sign it was and started to rock.

She moaned beneath him, so softly, and he wanted to hear it again. And again. He kept his thrusts long and slow, with every intention to make it last, but then she squeezed her inner muscles around him, gripping him tightly, and, somehow, he lost it a little bit.

"Bones!"

"Yes. Don't hold back."

Palming her thigh, he opened her further, stroking her deeper, and even though his rhythm had lost its finesse, she was meeting him thrust for thrust. Like she always had. Like she always would.

Turning her head, she sought his lips, but he was already there, meeting her halfway. And right there, in his arms, buried under him with him all around and inside of her, her body began to tighten... and with a sharp gasp, she lost herself in the sensation.

Was trembling into warmth that was him, that was her, that was them.

"Open your eyes. Bones, look at me, please."

Somehow his words made it through the haze of pleasure, and her eyelids fluttered, unfocused blue eyes bare for him to see.

"I love you, I love you so much."

And he was falling... into her, with her, coming in long and hot spasms, her pliant body catching him, soft muscles still fluttering around him. And when he collapsed on top of her, Booth knew that nothing in his life had ever felt so wonderfully right before.

They had done it. Had survived the burning.

Moonlight was cooling their bodies, guarding them, and, after a while, he rolled down from her, taking her with him. Her head found its place on his chest, and one free hand searched the covers, shielding them from the world.

He sighed contently, cradling her in his arms, and she meowed as softly as a sated kitten.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"How does it feel to wake up naked in your arms?"

He nuzzled her bare shoulder with his lips.

"Perfect."

"You don't know that, yet."

"Yeah... but it's a safe bet, Baby."

And the snow was melting.

To be continued...

_Almost done... The next one is a teeny-weeny epilogue. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Set during "The Bone That Blew"._

VI.

_Six weeks later._

They met by incident, at the coffee machine on the second level, the whole lab beneath them. Despite the distinct aura of annoyance surrounding him, the older man hadn't lost his vigor. As always when he stood face to face with Max Keenan, Booth tensed a little bit, but he tried his best not to show it.

"How's it going there, Max?"

"That's the last day with my kids this afternoon. I'm toast."

"Cam fired you, huh?"

"No, no. Tempe fired me. And don't tell me she hasn't got the authority because, believe me... I feel fired."

"Sorry, Max."

And he meant it. Despite the fact that Max Keenan was a murderer – not convicted, but nonetheless – despite the fact that he had put his teenage daughter through hell... as unbelievable as it was, the man had always had honorable intentions and he loved Brennan. Booth had somehow hoped that his partner – his _more-than-a-partner_ – could find some kind of closure with her father around.

Taking his coffee, Booth turned to leave, but Max' voice stopped him.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You... are you, uh... Are you sleeping with my daughter?"

Booth wasn't able to suppress the big, fat grin, but, truth be told, he didn't really try too hard in the first place.

"Yes."

Max nodded and regarded him silently for a while.

"That's good. Good for you. And her. You're a good man, I want that for her."

The grin turned just a little bit cocky.

"Thanks, man."

Max gave him an almost benevolent smile.

"Just to be clear... you hurt her, I'll kill you, okay?"

"You kill me, she'll hate you forever. Ha!"

One moment of silent eye contact followed, as the two men who loved her measured each other. Then Max turned around with his bottle of coke and Booth strolled away in search of his partner. From his place on the second level he could see that she wasn't on the forensic platform, so he tried her office.

And there she was, typing something on her computer, so beautiful and focused, the curtain of dark hair falling into her face. In the past six weeks, Booth had found out that, to him, a place was perfect when it contained her, so right now her office was the best place in the whole wide world – despite all those bones and her creepy iguana. He had also found out that Brennan wasn't as immune to distractions from work as she'd have liked to be.

"Hi there."

"Booth. Do we have a lead?"

"Nope, I'm killing time while Angela is running another reconstruction and I thought I could say hello to my girlfriend."

"I still hate that term."

"I still hope you get used to it."

Shutting the door and closing the blinds happened before she really noticed it, and then he plopped onto her couch with an extra-loud sigh. Of course, he just could have walked over to her, she even might have allowed him to kiss her, but Booth had also learned that his distractions usually worked best when he started a tad more subtle.

Loosening the knot of his tie, he just watched her, marveling at her beauty while taking a sip of coffee every once in a while. Six weeks ago, she had kept her promise, hadn't asked him to leave. The morning after he had loved her, he had woken up to her big blue eyes studying him, and he had almost felt shy under her intense gaze. Almost...

"I'm not your girlfriend."

Something fierce tightening his chest.

"What?"

"By definition, I'm not a girl anymore. The term 'girlfriend' is just so... wrong."

His heart daring to beat anew.

"So... you hate the term and not what it implies? You know... waking up next to me, two toothbrushes, commitment..."

"I... I like waking up next to you. In fact, I've woken up quite some time ago and watching you has been very pleasing. More than... pleasing..."

"Bones?"

A grin under tousled hair, so bright.

"Yes?"

A hand cupping her nape, pulling her close.

"Good morning."

Lips finding each other in the light of a new day, her naked body melting into his embrace... It had been the best morning in the history of mornings. It had been a beginning.

Sometimes when he awoke and she was still curled up next to him, or in the evening, when he came home and she was already in his apartment... sometimes, he still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that a woman so beautiful and brilliant could love him; couldn't even believe how deep his own feelings for her ran.

With her... everything was just better.

"You are watching me."

Her voice tore him out of his reverie, and his lips curved up.

"Hell, yes, I am, you're by far the most beautiful thing in here."

"The iguana knows that you don't like him."

"Well, it's mutual. I didn't even know that those things have teeth..." He shuddered at the memory of befriending her pet.

"Are you aiming to distract me again?"

"No, not at all. I'm just having coffee. See?"

And he took another sip, licking his lips afterwards. Her gaze zoomed in on his mouth. To be honest, she had always found it quite intriguing, the way his tongue darted out every once in a while, moistening his lips... but now that she knew what those lips could do, the term "distraction" didn't really do justice anymore.

"You're doing it on purpose."

"What?"

He even managed to look innocent.

"Rearranging my priorities. Stealing my focus."

Letting go of a chuckle, Booth lifted the coffee cup to his lips anew, taking one more sip, all the while holding her gaze. With a groan of frustration, Brennan abandoned her laptop, sashaying towards him.

"Do you mind?" he asked, giving her his trademark charming smile.

"Do you care?"

He shrugged.

"I don't wanna disturb you," he tried, but didn't sound too sincere.

Then she was standing in front of him and he took her hand, tugging gently. One moment later, she was in his lap, the silky-looking hair he had just admired running through his fingers, her soft body melting into his embrace.

Brushing the dark curls aside, he kissed her ear.

"Sorry for interrupting you," he murmured, his warm breath caressing her cheek.

"Somehow I don't believe you."

Tilting her head, she gave him better access to her neck, and he nuzzled the smooth skin with his lips.

"By the way, your dad just threatened to kill me."

She stilled for a moment before snuggling up to him even further.

"He must have a reason, then."

"Jeez, thanks for your faith, woman. I told him you wouldn't forgive him."

"That's probably correct. I'm very fond of you."

To emphasize said fondness, she whispered little kisses along his jawline, and he sighed contently, his fingers playing with hers.

"You wanna watch a movie tonight?"

"Sure. You want to work on my pop culture education?"

"Nah, I thought about indulging your squintiness. What about 'The Mummy'?"

"You're willing to watch 'The Mummy' with me?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll tell Dad not to kill you."

Laughter rumbled deep in his belly, vibrating through her body as well, and he cupped her nape to close the distance to her mouth. She came willingly, parting her soft lips for him, and soon he was lost in the now familiar sensation of kissing her. Six weeks into this, kissing Brennan had lost nothing, _nothing_ of its charm, and it didn't take long for him to breathe heavily. She had shifted on his lap, hugging him properly, and with her in his arms, his world was, once again, perfect.

"Dr. Brennan, we have..."

The door flung open, but Cam's voice trailed off immediately, as she took in the entangled couple on the couch.

Brennan regained her composure fairly quickly, while her partner buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"You have what?"

"A lead. I just wanted to suggest calling Booth, but since he's already here... Hi Seeley."

He groaned.

"Camille."

"So..."

"So?"

The women regarded each other silently, both of them remembering a night in the snow, a moment of honesty. Cam was the first to grin.

"I'm glad to see that, every once in a while, you actually seem to listen to me, Dr. Brennan."

A soft smile for Booth, then Brennan got up from his lap, smoothing her lab coat.

"Only when it's important. But I have to admit that, sometimes, you have very wise things to say."

Cam knew that she should probably add something about inappropriate workplace behavior, but she decided not to waste her breath on those two. Pushing the file into Brennan's hand, she turned round on her heel to search Hodgins.

After all, she had a hell of a secret to share.

-BONES-

Second chances... sometimes you get them and it is in your hands to use them. Some people call it "fate", others "life".

And in the evening... when one pathologist was still teasing an entomologist about not having seen the signs, in another part of the town a man and a woman snuggled up on her couch, ready to watch 'The Mummy'.

Because... second chances... sometimes they become your life.

Melted had the snow. And everything else.

The End.

_Thank you for following this story and for your kind words. For those of you not living in the snow... building snowmen isn't really that much fun... It makes your fingers numb and the snow crumbles most of the time. Still, winter is a beautiful thing. That said, I'm glad it's over ;)_ What now? We'll see...


End file.
